


The Serpent's Chant

by drabbleswabbles



Series: Love and Liasons [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Homophobia, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Relationship(s), Romance, Slavery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:45:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7686880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbleswabbles/pseuds/drabbleswabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The perfect family. The perfect body. The perfect mind. Dorian has it all. He's determined to become a son his father can speak of with pride. Then he catches sight of whiskey colored eyes and the world shifts under his feet. When he rebels, Tevinter itself may quake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Duck

     The unrelenting blaze of the sun defied the calendar's claim that summer was coming to an end. Dorian ran sand through his fingers and watched Laelius toss rocks into the pond. It wasn't a very interesting way to spend the afternoon, but he was determined to enjoy it. His tutoring sessions had ended two days ago. He'd be going to a Circle next week and Father had given him the whole week to do as he pleased. Dorian had spent hours imagining all the things he'd do if he ever escaped the stuffy room and the even stuffier tutor who insisted on keeping the windows shut to keep him focused on his lessons. He'd dreamed about sleeping in until noon, reading the adventure books with bright covers he saw at the market, and playing outside with his friends.

     It wasn't until he found himself awake at the usual early hour, unable to fall back asleep, that he realized he'd forgotten to take two important things into account. For one, Father scowled at the very sight of such books. For another, he didn't have friends.

     His parents' friends sometimes brought along their children when they came to visit, but none of them were his age. They humored him by letting him win at games of cards and dice, then ignored him once the adults were on their second bottle of wine. Which was why he was sitting by the pond with Laelius. He was only a year older and lived near enough that he walked over to the Pavus estate in the mornings even though his family had a perfectly good carriage.

     "I'm bored."

     Dorian sighed."You're the one who wanted to sit by the pond."

     "Maybe we could see what's at the bottom." Laelius stood up and brushed sand off the seat of his pants.

     "Mud and the rocks you've thrown in. Swimming is boring."

     "How would you know?" Laelis picked up another rock from the edge of the pond and skipped it across the water with a practiced flick of his wrist. It made it all the way to the center of the pond before disappearing into its murky depths. The startled swans took flight and Laelius grinned before he turned his attention back to Dorian. "I bet you can't even swim."

     "Yes I can." So what if he couldn't quite stay afloat? Standing neck deep in water and waving his arms around under water was almost the same thing.

     "Prove it."

     "This is stupid. I'm going home." He'd only made it a few steps before Laelius ran after him.

     "Wait! It's not even noon. Let's do something."

     "We could play chess," Dorian said hopefully. Mother had just bought him a brand new set made of crystal to take with him to the Circle.

     "Ugh. Talk about boring."

     "It's not boring. You just don't know how to play."

     Laelius shrugged. "Father never lets me play. It's always the Fade this, the Fade that."

     Dorian felt a small pang of guilt. Even though he was older than him, Laelius had yet to show any sign of magic. It was unimaginable. He couldn't remember a time when magic wasn't just there, always at his fingertips. Father had told him that many mages didn't show signs of power until they were a little older. Still, Laelius should have been finishing his first year at a Circle by now. When he'd asked Father about it, he'd mumbled something about the Maker's mysterious ways and then changed the subject.

     "We could go to the market." He didn't have any spending money, but sometimes if there weren't many customers and he asked politely the book merchant let him sit and read a couple of chapters from one of the books that wasn't selling well.

     "I have a better idea. Show me the fireball thing again."

     The _fireball thing_ was his best spellwork. He'd also been told more than once that he was never to cast it without supervision from an older mage. He chewed on his lip and glanced toward the house. If he was careful then no one would ever know.

     "Okay."

     Laelius beamed.

     They walked back toward the lake where the trees and hedges would hide them from curious eyes. Dorian stood with his back to the lake so he could keep his eyes on the path, just in case. When Laelius stopped in front of him and nodded his head eagerly he closed his eyes. He let himself sink into the warmth within that never left him. Sometimes, he thought that this was the best part of magic. In the moment right before he cast a spell he felt connected to something powerful and tremendous, something with a greater meaning just out of his reach. Everything seemed vast and mysterious, yet somehow possible.

     He opened his eyes, focused on a spot just above his outstretched palm, and called for the flames. They answered with a satisfying rush of light and heat. They emerged with crackling whispers right where he called them into being. _Let us come into this world. Let us grow. Let us devours._ It was a wordless debate he delighted in. _No. Not today. Today make due with the space in this world that I have given you._ And the flames obeyed, hovering above his palm, never breaking out of their assigned sphere.

     “Wow.”

     It was just a second, maybe even less than a second. For a moment his mind strayed and filled with pride at the awe with which Laelius watched him. The flames flicked up his arm, demanding he give back the attention he'd promised. Panicked, he tore away from the warmth, depriving the flames of the flow of magic, like a snuffer cutting off oxygen to a candle.

     It was too late.

     “Wow- I mean- Wow. Is your hand okay?”

     “Yes.” He tugged on the singed edge of his sleeve with the silly hope that it might make the damage less noticeable. It didn't. “Of course it's fine. I know what I'm doing.”

     Laelius leaned over to look at it. “Don't worry. It's only a little burned. I bet no one will even notice.”

     He slumped down into the sand. “Father's going to kill me.”

     Laelius joined him on the ground. “You think he'll be mad?”

     Dorian nodded glumly.

     “I wish I could cast spells like you do. They wouldn't send me away if I could.”

     “Away?” Dorian stared. “Away where? You mean to a Circle?”

     “The Academy.”

     “But they can't do that. You're a mage!” Mages didn't go to the Academy. They trained ordinary soldiers there. It was a place for the poor and the dumb who wanted to make something of their lives. Or so his father had always told him.

     “I don't think I am.” Laelius rubbed the bridge of his nose and scrunched up his face in an alarming way.

     Dorian had never had to be the one to do something when someone else cried and wasn't quite sure he was up to the task. Whenever he cried he always had his nursemaid Neria or his parents to comfort him. But he couldn't do the things they did when he was upset. He couldn't hug Laelius. They didn't hug. And singing to him would be... weird.

     “Don't cry,” he pleaded.

     This seemed to be precisely the wrong thing to say. Laelius drew up his knees and ducked his face into them, but it didn't quite conceal the terrible gasping sounds.

     “It can't be that bad. You'll get to learn about swords and stuff, right? And go on ships and have adventures.” He didn't really know all that much about the kinds of things soldiers did. In history lessons they mostly seemed to march places. “And I bet no one there can skip rocks like you do. They'll all be jealous.”

     “You think?” Laelius looked up teary eyed.

     “Sure. It'll be just like in the stories. And you can tell me all about it during the holidays.”

     “We don't get holidays,” Laelius wailed. He dropped his head again. “I can't come back until I've served two years in Seheron.”

 _Seheron?_ He knew all about Seheron too. There was fighting there. Real fighting. People _died_ in Seheron. Laelius had to be confused. He'd never been the brightest candle in the chandelier.

     “Well, you can write letters,” he invented. “You can write to me all about the exciting things you're doing while I'm stuck in some tower, reading books all day.” He did his best to pretend that this didn't sound wonderful. “And I can collect them. And maybe you could put them in a book and publish them. You could be famous.”

     Laelius wiped his face with the back of his sleeve and gave him a watery smile. “And you'll write back?”

     “Sure.”

     “Thanks, Dorian. You're a good-”

     “Dorian!”

     They both startled and Dorian scrambled to his feet. “I have to go.”

     He didn't wait for Laelius to respond before he went running down the path. If he ran fast enough then he'd never have to hear the rest of that sentence. His stomach squirmed, because he was pretty sure he knew how it would end. _Friend. You're a good friend._ Except he wasn't. To him, Laelius was just...convenient. And all of a sudden that didn't feel very good at all. He didn't come to a stop until he reached the porch where he knew Laelius wouldn't follow without an invitation.

     “Dorian, what happened to your robes?”

     In his rush to get away he'd completely forgotten about the earlier mishap. “I- They're burned.”

     “I can see that.” His father set aside the book in his hand. “How did they get burned?”

     He wished he could lie and make up some story that would explain it away. But he was a terrible liar and trying to lie only ever made things worse. “I cast the fire spell.”

     “And what have I told you about casting that spell?”

     “That I shouldn't cast it alone,” he whispered looking away.

     “Don't mumble. And look at me when I ask you a question.”

     He forced himself to look up. “I'm sorry.”

     “Your apology doesn't do away with the consequences of your actions, does it?”

     “No.”

     His father sighed and looked away. “You disappoint me, Dorian. I suggest you go inside and start packing. Your mother and I won't be sending along anything you've forgotten because of careless last minute preparations.”

     Dorian nodded and slunk his way into the house. He made his way down the hallway, up the freshly scrubbed staircase, and then into his room. _Disappointment._ Anything but that. Sometimes when his tutor caught his attention straying during a lesson he'd be forced to write lines upon lines of neat little 'I will pay attentions'. By the end of it he was never sure if he'd learned much of anything, but the slate was wiped clean. He could be a good student who paid attention again. But disappointment? There wasn't an easy fix for that.

     There were all kinds of things that he'd need with him at the Circle. The things he'd really need like clothes and school books would be packed for him. But there was a small suitcase for trinkets. Things he wouldn't need, but that he might want to have with him. He looked around the room and tried to decide what to take. He wished he could take the whole room, but of course he couldn't do that. His room at the Circle would be much smaller, although Father had assured him that he'd paid the extra fees so that he wouldn't have to share it.

     He looked at the shelf of books first, but then he set aside the idea. There would be a library at the Circle with all sorts of new books and probably some of the ones he had. There'd be plenty to read. Then there were the delicate glass figurines his Mother gave him on special occasions and sometimes just because, but he knew they were too fragile for a journey in a suitcase.

 _The duck._ It was wooden so it wouldn't break and it was small enough that he could keep it hidden from his classmates. No one would know that he'd brought a toy with him. He opened the closet where all his toys were neatly arranged on shelves, most of them long ago abandoned. But the duck wasn't there. He tried to remember when he'd seen it last and found that he couldn't. He checked under the bed and under the nightstand. He even opened the toy closet again, just to double check, because his toys never went missing. Neria or one of the other slaves always put them back in their place. Even the ones he'd tossed in the lake one day.

     He went out into the hallway. One of the slaves, he was new and Dorian couldn't remember his name, was sweeping the floors.

     “Have you seen my duck?”

     The elf startled and the broom slipped out of his hands with a loud clatter that made them both wince. To his surprise the elf soon followed the broom, collapsing next to it. “Forgive my clumsiness, Young Master.”

     The new slaves were always doing strange things like that. He knew from what Mother had told him that it was because some people didn't treat their slaves well or appreciate them. Like their gardener Veras, who couldn't speak and who's hands were so scarred that Dorian tried not to look at them for too long because it made him imagine all the horrible ways they might have ended up that way.

     “It's okay. You can get up.” He picked up the broom and waited for the elf to stand up before handing it back to him. “And please don't call me that. I'm Dorian.”

     “How can I serve you, Young- Dorian?”

     He sighed. “Never mind.”

     Only his Mother and Neria would know the toy he was referring to and he couldn't ask either of them. Mother was away on a trip and wouldn't be back for two more days and Neria would be in the kitchens making last minute dinner preparations. He went back to his room, closed the still empty suitcase, and pulled a book off the shelf. If he read until dinner then he wouldn't think about Laelius or being a disappointment or his missing duck.

***

     His father looked up from the heavy book he'd propped up against another book on the dining room table so that he could read while eating his dinner. "Have you finished packing?”

     It was a simple question. It wasn't something that should've upset him. But how could he explain that he hadn't started because his duck was missing? He fumbled for a glass of water so that he could swallow past the lump in his throat. His hand trembled, nudging the glass over. It smashed, sending a spray of delicate glass and water in all directions. He watched in horror as his father scrambled to his feet to lift the fragile tome into the air. Water dripped from it into his soup bowl.

     "Kaffas!"

     He didn't wait for the rest of his father's sentence to dash out of the dining room and up the stairs to his bedroom. _Kaffas._ It was a bad word. His father only used it when he was really angry about something. Panting for breath, he pressed his ear to the door waiting to see if anyone would follow him. When his heart had stopped thudding and no footsteps signaled the arrival of someone to scold him he clambered into his bed. He pulled the covers over his head and buried his face in the pillows.

     He _never_ did anything right. He couldn't cast the spell right. He couldn't lie about it. He couldn't be a good friend to Laelius. And on top of it all his duck was still missing. Dorian pressed his face into the pillow harder hoping it might stop the tremble of his lip. He would _not_ cry. He wasn't a baby like Laelius. He'd be at a Circle soon.

     Someone knocked softly on the door. Dorian grabbed the edge of the covers and pressed his hands against the mattress. He didn't want his father to pull them up and see him teary eyed. He heard the turn of the doorknob and then the click of the door as it closed again. The bed sagged as someone sat on the corner of it.

     "Dorian. Are you under there?"

     He stayed very still even though he knew it wouldn't fool Neria. It wasn't long before he felt her small hand patting the bed in search of him. When he'd been younger, he'd thought that she really needed to do that to find him under the covers. Now that he was older he knew it was only a game she'd played with him as a child. But sometimes he still liked to pretend that she couldn't. It wasn't long before he felt a small hand on the back of his head.

     "Ah. And what is this?" He felt her walk her fingers down over his neck and to his back. "Hmm. A large pillow perhaps? But is it soft enough?" The fingers disappeared only to poke him in the side.

     Dorian jerked away and stifled an involuntary giggle.

     "Ah! It moves! Has a cat made it's way into the Little Master's bed?" Neria tugged gently on the covers and he loosened his grip on them, letting her pull them off him, although he didn't pull his head out from between the pillows.

     "There you are," she whispered, as if he really were a cat that might be startled by a loud noise. "Come now. Let me see you."

     He shook his head. It was too embarrassing.

     Neria rubbed soothing circles over his back. "Da'len. What has happened?"

 _Da'len._ He didn't know what it meant, but it was an elvish word. And Neria wasn't supposed to speak anything other than Tevene. There were rules about it. But that only made it feel special. It was their secret and the way she said it always made him feel safe. As if nothing could ever go wrong again.

     He sat up and turned to face her, pulling his legs into his chest so that he could rest his chin on his knees. "I ruined father's book."

     Neria ran a hand through his hair, combing it back into place with her fingers. "With a spell?"

     He shook his head. "I spilled my water. And...I broke one of the nice water glasses."

     "I'm sure your mother will fix them both in no time."

     Dorian stared at his feet. Mother was very good with fixing things, but Father would still be mad. First the spell then his robes and now the book. If there was one thing his father had taught him to careful around, it was books. When he'd first started showing signs of magic he hadn't been allowed in the library until he'd learned to keep it from bubbling out of him against his control.

     "He'll never forgive me," he whispered. His vision turned blurry.

     "Hush." Neria pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped his eyes gently. "What nonsense is that? Of course he'll forgive you. He's your father. He loves you more than all the books and glasses in this world put together."

     Dorian let himself be pulled into Neria's arms. He could smell the spices from a day spent in the kitchens on her clothes. Now that he was old enough to go lots of places by himself and Neria didn't have to watch him all the time that was where she spent most of her day.

     “My duck is gone.”

     “Your what?”

     “My duck. The one with the little wheels. Have you seen it?”

     Neria shook her head. “I'm sorry, Da'len. I haven't see it for a long time. Have you checked under the bed?”

     “It's not there.”

     “Maybe it went to visit a little boy who needed it more.”

     He sighed because he was far too old to believe that toys could go somewhere on their own. Not unless they were enchanted and that meant they weren't going there on their own. Still, he wished he could believe it. He shifted to rest his head in her lap, hoping that she might stroke his hair if he did. “What little boy?”

     Neria scratched him playfully behind the ear and then as he'd hoped stroked his hair. “A little boy that doesn't have any other toys. Don't you think the duck would like that?”

     “I don't know.” He closed his eyes. That made it easier to pretend. “Where does to boy live?”

     “He lives in a forest. Far, far away from here.”

     “How far?”

     “So far that sometimes it's so cold you can see your breath when wake up in the morning. Like steam coming out of a kettle.”

     He shuddered at the very thought of it. “What kinds of things will they do?”

     “Oh all kinds of things. They're going to run in the woods and learn to use a bow and arrow. They'll go fishing. And there will be other ducks and rabbits and even halla. Whole herds of them.”

     They had a set of halla antlers in the sitting room. Mother had brought them back as a gift for Father after a trip she'd taken and Father loved showing them to guests. They always made him a little sad. He knew it was silly, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor halla that had to walk around without them. “That would be nice.”

     “It is,” Neria whispered. “Now, why don't you go and get washed up for bed?”

     He sat up and sighed. “Too bad it's only pretend.”

     She turned away with a sniffling sound.

     “Neria?”

     “Run along, Da'len. I was trimming the stripweed. I'll straighten up the bed for you”

     He left the room relieved. Too many strange things had happened for one day. But this wasn't strange. Neria was allergic to stripweed just like him. If they so much as stood by it for a few minutes they were itchy eyed and sneezing for at least a day. By the time he came back Neria was gone, replaced by his father. He hesitated in the doorway.

     “There you are. I thought you might have fallen in.” His father offered a small smile. “I have something for you. I was going to wait, but I thought maybe you'd like to have it now.” He pointed to the desk.

     Dorian picked up the package carefully and turned it over in his hands. It was heavy. The good kind of heavy that usually meant there'd be a book or maybe two inside. When he pulled apart the wrapping he was proven right. It was a book. _Stone Halls of the Dwarves._

     “It's by Genitivi. I'm sure your instructors wouldn't approve, but I think you'll like it.”

     “Thank you.” He turned it over in his hands again, unsure what to do.

     “Maybe we could read a chapter together?”

     Reading a chapter together meant that Father would pull one of the armchairs over to the side of the bed and then he would read until his voice turned raspy or until Dorian fell asleep. He nodded and crawled under the covers. It was a good book and even though he couldn't remember the last time he'd been so tired he struggled to stay awake so he could hear just a little bit more of it.

     “You're still awake?” Father whispered when he'd gotten to the end of the chapter.

     Dorian nodded.

     “I'll miss reading together when you're at the Circle.”

     Dorian tried to to respond, but instead he yawned. He knew should cast a spell over himself tonight to keep the demons from being lured to him. It was an easy enough spell to cast and the first one he'd learned. It was a bit like a shield in reverse, keeping his magic contained so that it didn't glow so brightly in the Fade on days when he'd been upset. He yawned again.

     Father chuckled and with a movement of his hand that always reminded Dorian of pulling a curtain shut, he cast the spell over him. He re-tucked the covers around him and kissed his forehead. "Sleep tight. Don't let the demons bite.”


	2. Carastes

               Dorian stretched out on the bench in the courtyard and looked up into the green leaves rippling above him. The clammy dampness from the unpainted wood seeped into his robes. It had been unusually rainy for this time of year. He couldn’t have cared less. Spring exams were only at their start, but as far as he was concerned they were done. In the morning he’d written a ten page essay on the Fade and in the afternoon he’d struggled through an impossible translation into Common. Starting tomorrow all the tests would involve practical applications of magic. His biggest challenge would be staying awake through performing what would, without a doubt, be silly spells he’d mastered three years ago.

               “What did you think?” Marcia dropped into the grass in front of the bench and leaned her head back so that it landed on his chest. “A joke, wasn't it?”

               He groaned. Common was the only subject that gave him trouble. He spent twice as much time as his classmates drilling vocabulary and puzzling out strange grammar rules and still struggled to maintain a passing grade. It stung his pride. Because of his success in all other subjects, the others delighted in his every failure. Sometimes he suspected that everyone else studied harder just so that they could embarrass him.

               “What was that last part about? Something about laying down in a shoe?”

               Marcia was the second-best mage in their year and often spent hours helping him through tricky translation assignments. “To step into someone's shoes.”

               “Nasty idea. Completely unsanitary.”

               She snorted and sat up. “Are you studying for Elemental tomorrow?”

               Dorian ripped a flower off the bush behind his head and twirled it until it froze. He let it drop into the palm of his hand where flames consumed it before a trickle of water rinsed off the ash that remained.   

               “Show off. You'll get written up for vandalizing school property.”

               Dorian rolled his eyes. It wouldn't surprise him if he did. He was always getting written up for stupid things like staying in the library past his bedtime or reading a book during a boring lecture. Last month he'd been called into the Senior Enchanter's office to discuss his conduct. As if it were his fault that some idiot couldn't muster up a strong enough shield to protect himself from a small zap of electricity. The Senior Enchanter had even threatened to send a letter home about his behavior. He doubted the threat would ever be carried out, but he'd dedicated himself to studying more subtle magical attacks just in case.

               "So, what are you gonna do today?"

               He looked around. Most of the other students were still inside or off on the other end of the grounds, closer to the pond. "Can you keep a secret?"

               Marcia grinned. "What'd you come up with now?"

               "I got a book."

               "Ugh. I can't believe I fell for that _again_. Does it at least have pirates?"

               "Better." He dropped down into the grass next to her and pulled the tome in question out of his bag. The ward spell on the doors to the section of the library which held books available only with permission of the Senior Enchanter had been tricky, but in the end he'd managed to figure out the pattern that would lift it without setting off an alarm. _Blood Mage: A Manual._ It seemed heavier out here than it had in the library.        

               "Dorian!" Marcia looked around. "You can't be serious! You're going to get in trouble. _Real_ trouble. Not just Circle trouble."

               "I won't use it," he protested. "Come on. Aren't you even a little curious?"

               "No!" Marcia looked around again. "Where did you even get this thing?"

               "The library."

               Her eyes widened. "Our library?"

               "Of course. What did you think they kept in the warded section?" He opened the book and flipped through the pages and paused on a detailed diagram of the anatomy of a human arm.

               _A common mistake of the novice blood mage is underestimating the importance of a thorough_ _knowledge_ _of human anatomy. Proper incision techniques are an essential part of the art. A poorly executed cut may prove as fatal as any battle._

"Well isn't this something?" Someone snatched the book out of his hands. "Pavus. A blood mage."

               He whipped around. Fortunately, it wasn't an instructor. It was Tullius. Three years ahead of him and extremely popular. Dorian didn't know what anyone saw in him. He wasn't talented, funny, or even all that good looking. Although he did carry himself with a confidence that Dorian envied. It was as if he was certain that all of Thedas recognized his greatness.

               "Give that back!" Dorian scrambled to his feet.

               Tullius laughed "Or what? You'll tell the Senior Enchanter?"

               Dorian scowled. He could try to cast a spell, but out in the middle of the school grounds it would be risky. One of the instructors was bound to notice and then he'd be caught casting spells without supervision and a book on blood magic all at once. Marcia stood up to join him in glaring.

               Tullius flipped through the pages and whistled. "So, it's not true what they say about you."

               "What do they say about me?"

               "That you're too scared to try anything more than a trick. But I think they're wrong. You're a bit of a rebel, aren't you?"

               His stomach did a small flip. "I stole that, didn't I?"

               Tullius grinned. "Tonight. In the basement. We're having a little get together of rebels. You should come. Get your book back."

               Dorian watched him saunter away with the book tucked under his arm. Maybe, if he squinted, he could sort of see what everyone saw in Tullius.

 

***

 

               "Don't go. What's he gonna do? Turn you in? It's his word against yours that you even snuck that book out of the library." When he didn't respond, Marcia threw his own pillow at him from the bed. "Are you listening?"

               The pillow bounced harmless off Dorian's side as he tightened the buckle of his boot. "No."

               "He's _three_ years ahead of you. Do you really think he's going to let you join his dumb club?"

               He scowled. "Have you seen me cast?"

               "Yes, but-"

               "It's past curfew. You should be in your room." Dorian checked himself in the mirror one more time. 

               Marcia groaned and slid off his bed. "Yes. And if I get kicked out for wandering the basement after hours I'm telling everyone you brainwashed me with blood magic."

               "What?"

               "I'm coming with you."

               "Why?"

               "Because you're going to need a friend when this goes terribly wrong."

               Dorian shook his head, but he couldn't help the smile that crept up on his face. From his room to the basement was only a short walk. He could hear the scrape of Marcia's slippers behind him. They went down the winding staircase and stepped into the lounging room where everyone knew Tullius and his friends gathered.

               "And here he is, right on time." Tullius stood up from his seat and waved a hand around the room. Everyone in the room turned to look at him. Dorian recognized most of them, even if he didn't know their names. Wherever Tullius went, they followed. Most of them were sons of prominent magisters.

               "Dorian Pavus. Rebel in the making. And he's even brought a guest. But I'm afraid we only have room for one more to join us."

               "I never said I wanted to join anything."

               "And what do you want?" Tullius asked. He had a small smile on his face, but his eyes were serious, as if he knew something the others didn't.

               Dorian swallowed past the dryness in his throat. "I want my book back."

               Tullius grinned. "Duel me for it."

               Dorian stared at him, sure that he'd misunderstood. Dueling was strictly against the rules. It was a sure way to find yourself on probation. But then, since when had rules done him any good?

               "Alright."

               "Dorian," Marcia whispered. "Don't."

               He ignored her and stood across from Tullius. His heart pounded in his chest. He was good. He knew he was good. Still, Tullius was older than him and Dorian had never seen him casting spells. That would make things difficult. The best thing would be to keep up his shield and use his first few spells to test his responses. It would buy him time to devise a strategy. No doubt it would take some effort to surprise or tire Tullius into dropping his shields. They circled each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

               Dorian summoned a bit of energy into his palm and hurled it. It cut into the shield surrounding Tullius with a crunching sound. His own shield faltered from surprise. Nothing about the interaction of their spells should have caused the sound.

               A demonic shriek filled the room, animalistic and enraged. Tullius dropped to the ground. He strenghtened his shield again and whipped around searching for the demon and whoever had summoned it.

               "Maker!" Someone screamed as they ran past him. "He's killed him!"

               "Someone call the healer! Quickly!"

               The room fell silent and that was when he understood. It wasn't a demon. It was Tullius.


	3. Solitude

               Senior Enchanter Parthalan had spent the better part of a lifetime cultivating the image of the Circle of Carastes. He’d transformed it from a respectable place of learning to the most prestigious institution in the Imperium. All of the wealthiest and most powerful magisters sent their children to be educated under his watchful eye. After years of efforts, he had retired to a life of attending lavish parties at which lesser families showered him with gifts and flattery in hopes of securing a coveted spot for their children. On occasion, he amused himself with intimidating the Junior Enchanters into keeping a closer eye on their charges. Not that they needed much encouragement. The Circle demanded excellence of its instructors much as it did of its apprentices.

               All of which was to say that he didn’t appreciate being woken in the middle of the night by frantic pounding on the door to his room. He climbed out of bed, checked himself in the mirror to make sure that his special made wrinkle free robes were in fact wrinkle free, ran a hand through his hair, then stormed out into the hallway.

               “What?” he snarled.

               The disheveled Junior Enchanter Valerius flinched. “Sorry to wake you, sir. There’s been an accident. There’s an injured apprentice. Tullius Corix.”

               “Fasta vass! What happened?”

               “There was a duel- The Pavus boy-“

               “Kaffas!”

               The Pavus boy was entitled, petulant, arrogant, and disobedient. In other words, he’d been the bane of his existence ever since his arrival at Carastes. But he put up with him because his family was one of the most powerful in the Imperium. Rumor went that his father would be appointed as the Archon’s consiliare any day. It was obvious they were trying to groom the boy to be the next Archon. The Pavus family had built its status on the bedrock of an honorable reputation and carefully crafted social ties. On the other hand, was Tullius Corix, a model apprentice. Well-liked by instructors and students alike, he was on his way to setting up the connections needed to earn a prominent role at Carastes one day. He excelled at social manipulations, but had a measured temperament. Maker knew how he’d developed it raised as a Corix. Truth be told, he’d never quite forgiven the boy's father for spoiling a perfectly pleasant dinner party by beating one of his slaves to death in full view of everyone in attendance. However, on account of rumors that more than his temper fueled his constant need for new slaves he’d never demanded so much as a copper in compensation for his ruined carpet. Not that Parthalan ever stooped so low as to engage in gossip about blood magic.

               He briefly considered abandoning the whole mess to Valerius and going straight to the docks. He could find the first ship out of the Imperium and be gone before either the Corix or Pavus family found an unsuspicious way to have him assassinated. He weighed the two in his mind. There would be no appeasing both families. He’d have to pick a side.

               “Put Pavus in isolation. I’ll deal with him after I check on Corix.”

               “But sir, he’s only nine yea-“

               “Do it!” He stalked away before Valeirus could try to argue with him further. Everything had to be in place before Magister Corix arrived.

               He reached the Healer’s Ward as quickly as he could without getting sweaty. Sweat was the first sign of a Senior Enchanter’s downfall. As it was a couple of his colleagues would inevitably develop ideas about manipulating the situation to usurp him. He wouldn’t add more fuel to the fire.

               The Head Healer greeted him with a solemn nod.

               “How is he?”

               “He’ll live. A shield spell gone wrong. Instead of collapsing the shield broke apart and hit him. The opponent's blast of energy hit him after that. Broke nearly half the bones in his body. Most of them in multiple places. We’ve repaired as much of the damage as we can for the moment. We’ll continue the work tomorrow morning, once he's had a chance to rest.”

               “Any permanent damage?”

               “He should have full use of all his limbs by the end of the week. But there’s no way to know the long term impact. He may develop pains as he ages. If it comes to that he may need occasional care from an experienced healer.”

               _At least no one’s dead._ There was still a chance that he could resolve this with minimal damage to his reputation.

               “I will be informing Magister Corix of the incident the moment I get back to my desk. You should prepare yourself to answer any and all questions he may have about his son's health. In the meantime, you are to care for that boy as if he were your first and only son. And I stress, that he is in fact, the first born and only son of Magister Corix.

               “Understood. There’s another matter. I found this, in his possession.”

               Parthalan accepted the blood soaked book and flipped it open. _Blood Mage:_ _A Manual._ The very copy the librarian had discovered missing a few days ago after preforming a routine check of the wards. He slipped it under his arm.

               “You never saw this. Am I clear?”

               “Perfectly.”

               He went straight to his office where he locked the book in a desk drawer and reached for a piece of parchment that wasn’t there. With resignation he looked at the spot where it should be as if his gaze might summon it into existence.

               “How many times must I tell you to keep the parchment tray filled before it gets through your thick skull?”

               “Forgive me, Master.” Festus ducked his head. “I will refill it right away.”

               Parthalan watched his terrible investment rush out of the room. Competent and easy on the eyes, the seller had told him. At least the latter part still held true. He’d considered selling him off to a place where his looks would be a greater asset, but he didn’t want to invite rumors that he engaged in that sort of behavior with his slaves. Especially male slaves. The only other option would be to sell him off to a mine or some other place of manual labor that always needed new workers, but the elf was fragile. Parthalan knew he wouldn’t last more than a few months working under such conditions. It would be a terrible waste. There was hope yet that he might learn to be a reliable assistant.

               Festus rushed into the room, a stack of parchment in his hands. He placed it carefully in its proper place on the desk then stepped back and sneezed into the crook of his elbow.

               “You’re sick, again.”

               “It’s nothing, Master.”

               Parthalan took a closer look at him and felt a twinge of pity. The poor thing had caught some new ailment. “I have important Circle business to attend to, but as soon as that is concluded I will send for a healer that works on your kind. Go rest in the room by the kitchens, I can’t have you distracting me with your sniffling.”

               “You are too kind, Master. Thank you.”

               He waited until Festus wobbled his way out of the room and closed the door behind him to turn back to the parchment.

_Magister Corix,_

_It is with sincere apology that I write to inform you that during an incident involving another apprentice, Tullius was injured. He is currently recovering under the care of all of our best healers and I expect that he will make a full recovery within the week. If you wish, we will make preparations to allow you to stay at his side until that time. I will be at your disposal to answer any questions you may have. As Senior Enchanter my foremost priority is always the health and safety of our apprentices. Know that I will dedicate all of the Circle’s resources to investigating the matter fully._

_Senior Enchanter Parthalan_

               There, that was a start. Once Magister Corix arrived he would assuage him with news that he’d expelled the Pavus boy for his actions. He’d waive any future tuition payments, a token gesture considering the family’s wealth, but a gesture nonetheless. And if all else failed he had a blood soaked blood magic manual in his desk drawer that he could use to convince him it would be in his son’s best interest if a thorough investigation was dropped.

***

               Dorian clenched his hands together to keep them from shaking. It wasn't his fault. If Tullius had kept his shield up properly... He would be fine. The Circle's healers fixed all kinds of injuries. Spells went wrong sometimes, even under proper supervision. Tullius would be back to normal in no time.

               He looked around the small office he’d been dragged into. It belonged Junior Enchanter Valerius. Books in at least a dozen languages filled the shelves behind his desk. Valerius was his Common instructor. Dorian loathed him almost as much as memorizing absurd grammar rules. He comforted himself with the knowledge that he wouldn’t last long at Carastes. The other instructors didn’t like him and he didn’t have the spine for politics. Soon he’d be relegated to being a tutor for any family that could scrape together the coin for his services.

               Valerius came in and watched him for a moment. “Get up.”

               “Where are we going?”

               “Up.”

               Dorian hesitated then feeling himself shrink under the stern look Valerius gave him followed him out of the room and through the halls. He considered asking about Tullius. He needed to know if he was alright, but asking might indicate he’d been taking any of this seriously. It wasn’t until Valerius started going downstairs that it occurred to him they weren’t going to the Senior Enchanters office. There wasn’t anything downstairs except the isolation cells.

               They couldn’t possibly be taking him there. They only used those in case of an emergency. When a student lost all control over their magic and needed a place to regain control. He wasn’t out of control. There were rumors that once upon a time they’d been used as a punishment in the event of serious rule breaking, but even then only for those a year or two away from taking their final exams.

               “Where are we going?” he repeated, even though he knew the answer. It was cold downstairs.

               Valerius opened the nearest door. “You’re to stay in isolation until the Senior Enchanter decides otherwise.”

               “But-“

               “Dorian.” Valerius closed his eyes briefly. “Please, don’t make me force you inside.”

               His heart pounded in his chest but he took a step forward and then another until he was inside the cell. He turned around and watched the door close. “Wait!”

               Valerius pulled the door open again.

               “Tullius, is he… will he be okay?”

               “I don’t know.” Valerius started to close the door again then paused, an unnervingly soft expression on his face. “The healers are with him now. They’ll take good care of him.”

               He nodded and watched the door close, dimming the light in the cell. The sickening crunch of bone and the scream that had followed echoed in his head. He lay down on the small cot that stretched the length of a wall and closed his eyes, hoping it would calm his churning stomach. Maybe if he focused on remembering the titles of all the books he'd ever read then he wouldn't have to think about what had happened to Tullius. Or what might happen to him. Or how long he might be down here.

               Time didn't make much sense in the cell. He woke up startled to find that he'd fallen asleep. His throat ached from dryness. The persistent dim light in the cell made it impossible to guess whether it was the same night or the next morning. He sat up and looked at the door. Someone had to come let him out soon. They'd couldn't keep him locked away forever without food or water. Could they? Father would surely look for him if he didn't answer his letters. But he'd just sent him one the other day. Father wouldn't be expecting another response for perhaps a month.

               The door swung open blinding him with bright light.

               “Sit up Pavus.” Senior Enchanter Parthalan snapped. “And explain yourself.”

               “Are you letting me out?”

                “Young man, I don’t think you grasp the gravity of the situation you find yourself in. You attacked a fellow apprentice in the middle of the night. Do you imagine there won’t be consequences for your actions?”

               “I didn’t attack him,” Dorian pointed out. “We were dueling.”

               His explanation transformed Parthalan’s expression from one of great annoyance into genuine fury. “Dueling, is strictly prohibited! It violates the rules of this institution. To say nothing of the fact that once again you were found out of your quarters after the night chime. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

               Dorian scowled. Screaming instructors had never impressed him.

               “Several apprentices have told me that Tullius asked you to return a book on blood magic to the library and that you became enraged and attacked him.”

               “What? He stole it from me!”

               “Stole it from you?” Parthalan’s eyebrows almost disappeared into his greying hair. “So you admit that you broke the code of conduct by breaking into the warded section of the library and removing a blood magic manual?”

               “I wasn’t going to use it.”

               Parthalan sighed. “I see. Seeing as you refuse to show even a shred of remorse for your behavior I have no choice but to inform your father-“ Dorian groaned in protest but Parthalan simply raised his voice to continue. “- that he is to escort you from Circle property at the earliest date possible.”

               Escort him?

               “Apprentice Dorian Pavus, as Senior Enchanter of this institution, I hereby expel you from the Circle of Carastes. In so doing, I revoke your title as Apprentice of Carastes and bar you from holding any other titles at any point in the future with the Circle of Carastes. The circumstances of your expulsion will be documented in accordance with Circle regulations and made available along with all other official records associated with your former apprenticeship upon request of any Circles you may choose to affiliate yourself with in the future. Do you have any questions?”

               Dorian stared at Parthalan blankly sure that he’d misunderstood. This had to be some kind of joke. He couldn’t be expelled. It wasn’t possible.

               “Do you have any questions?” Parthalan repeated.

               He shook his head.

               Parthalan smiled unpleasantly. “It seems your instructors were wrong. On occasion, you are capable of keeping your mouth shut.” He walked out of the cell. “I can’t say that it’s been a pleasure, Pavus. But I do wish you luck.”

               Dorian sat still on the cot and stared at the closed door too stunned to respond. Maybe Parthalan would come back and tell him it was all just a threat. But after a few minutes, when no such thing happened he reached for his magic, longing to dive into the Fade’s calming current. Instead he fell into a terrifying void. He pulled away from it, his heart hammering in his chest. His magic, it was gone. He reached for it again, more cautiously, but found only a howling emptiness.

               Then he remembered. The cells were enchanted to cut off anyone inside them from their magic. A piece of him was missing. The piece he loved most of all. His mind felt abandoned and alone, torn away from its constant companion. He crawled under the thin blanket on the cot and focused on his breathing.

_Don’t think about the void. Father will come to let you out and then-_

               And what then? What would Father do when he discovered he’d been expelled? What would Mother say? He thought he might be sick from the horrible uncertainty of his future punishment. He closed his eyes and let himself sink into the void where his magic ought to have been.

***

               Halward accepted the bottle from Gaius and drank directly from it. It was immature and improper behavior for a man of his age and status, but he couldn’t help indulging in it. Drinking with Gaius made him feel full of youthful energy and optimism. They’d been best friends from the moment they’d first met as mere apprentices. It hadn’t taken Gaius long to convince him to abandon a desk full of paperwork and sprawl out on the couch next to him to drink terrible wine.

               “You look like shit.”  

               “Fuck you,” Halward said fondly.

               “Is everything alright with Aquinea?”

               As his closest friend, Gaius was one of the few people who knew about her dark moods, often accompanied by excessive indulgence in any kind of alcohol that might be on hand. An imbalance of the mind, some healers called it, although he hated the phrase and its unspoken implications. “No. Nothing like that. She’s fine. It’s this legislation proposal I’m reviewing for the Archon. I’ve been combing through it over and over again. You know how it is.”

               “Actually, I don’t.” Gaius laughed. “I spend my days reading dull memos on tweaks to water use regulations. Love every moment of it. Come on, you’re taking a break. Stop thinking about it. Tell me something interesting.”

               “Well, there’s a clause in there about more stringent regulations on slave-“

               “I said something interesting. How’s Dorian?”

               Normally, he loved nothing more than to talk for hours on end about Dorian and all of his accomplishments, a habit that to his continued amazement Gaius indulged. “I don’t know. I don’t think he’s adjusting to life at the Circle quite as well as Aquinea and I had hoped. Just last month I got yet another letter informing me that he was found wandering the library after the night chimes. Nothing permanent on his record, of course. I doubt he suspects Aquinea and I receive weekly reports on his behavior.”

               “I seem to remember us doing the same on more than one occasion.”

               “We were older, Gaius. He’s not sneaking around the library trying to get into a girl’s robes. He’s just… willful. I guarantee you he wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t forbidden.”

               “Oh lighten up. Remember that time you snuck out to go to the carnival and I pulled you back inside the Circle through a window? Sometimes the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.”

               “Honestly? The thing I remember most from that night is when I smashed that stupid ceremonial vase outside the Senior Enchanter’s rooms.”

               Gaius laughed. “Maker. I forgot about that.”

               “How could you forget? You spent the rest of the year cleaning latrines by hand as punishment.” To this day he hated the sound of ceramic breaking against a stone floor. “I still can’t believe you took a mark on your record for me.”

               “Eh it was worth it.”

               “I don’t think I ever thanked you properly for it. My father would have flayed me alive.”

               “It was nothing.” Gaius took the bottle back and sipped from it.

                “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve been too lenient with him- After all, I did grow up to-“

               “Allow me to be blunt,” Gaius cut in. “Your father was the meanest bastard I’ve had the misfortune to know and that’s including the asshole who tried to poison me over a revoked permit last year.” He dropped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t let him reach out of the grave to mess with your head. You’re a good father. You don’t really think having the piss beat out of you for every little thing is what got you here, do you?” He lifted the hand to wave around the study.

               “Of course not.” When Aquinea had told him that they would have a son he’d sworn that he would be nothing like his own father. His son would grow up safe, cherished, secure in the knowledge he was loved. For days after Dorian was born he’d trembled every time Aquinea set him in his arms, terrified that he’d hurt the fragile little life they’d created together. But he’d kept his promise. He’d never raised so much as a finger against Dorian, nor had he ever allowed anyone else to do so.

               “Good.” Garrus shoved the wine bottle back in his hand. “Because that would be the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. He’s young. He’ll find his way.”

               “You’re right, I’m sure.” Halward took another sip of the wine. “Aquinea says he’s inherited her rebellious streak.”

               “I’ve always said that Aquinea was the only good idea that ever crossed your father’s mind.”

               He nodded in acknowledgement. Sometimes when he woke up next to her in the morning it still took away his breath to realize that of all the women his father might have betrothed him to, he’d chosen her. They hadn’t met until in their wedding day and he’d spent most of the night before the ceremony violently ill at the thought of being chained forever to any woman his father could consider a suitable match. He could have broken the whole thing off once she admitted to him the dark moods that sometimes gripped her, it would have been perfectly legal and no one would have faulted him for it, but by then he’d fallen hopelessly in love with her. In fact, after she’d confided in him, he’d absurdly arranged a surprise marriage proposal of sorts. It might have involved (there was no proof of it) candles, imported flowers, and reciting poetry.

               Someone knocked at the door breaking him out of his reverie. Halward set the bottle of wine down on the coffee table and smoothed his robes sheepishly. “Come in.”

               It was only Neria, letter in hand. “Forgive me for interrupting your meeting. An urgent message came for you from Carastes.”

               Halward felt his stomach drop the way it did every time a letter came from Carastes. The irrational part of him terrified that something had happened to Dorian and the rational part of him certain it would be yet another report of his misbehavior. “Give it here.”

               He didn’t even wait until the door had closed behind her before tearing it open. He read through the letter once, then again before tossing it on the coffee table and dropping his head back so that he found himself staring at the ceiling. _Maker give me strength._

               He could hear Gaius smoothing the parchment. “Vishante kaffas. They’ve expelled him? He’s just a child.”

               “Aquinea is away visiting her family. What am I supposed to do with him?”

               “You’ll bring him home. You’ll scold, you’ll lecture, you’ll talk some sense into him. Then you’ll find a new Circle for him to attend and ten years from now we’ll laugh about it like we laughed about that vase.”

               “It’ll be on his permanent record,” Halward moaned, unwilling to give up wallowing in self-pity just yet. “He must be the youngest apprentice ever expelled.”

               “And here you were worrying he’d never make a name for himself.”

               “Have I ever told you that you’re an asshole?” He grumbled getting up from the couch and taking the note back from Gaius. “I’m sorry. It seems I have to leave you to your own devices. If you need anything, Neria will take good care of you.”

               “I’ll be out of your hair before you get back.”

               Halward nodded and went into the hall and almost crashed into Neria who stumbled back and out of his way, caught in attempted eavesdropping. He could hear his father’s voice echo in his head. _You must never be lenient with a slave. If they sense your weakness, one day they will betray you._ He shoved the advice back impatiently. “I’m sorry, Neria. I should have known you’d be worried. Dorian will be returning home tomorrow night. You can prepare his room.”

               “Is he sick?”

               “He’s been expelled.”

               Neria made a dismayed noise and bowed her head. “I will ready his room.”

               He walked down the hallway where he pulled on his boots and cloak. “Don’t prepare any special meals for his return or make a fuss. And have all the books removed from his room."

               "His books?"

               "We both know that even if I were to deny him meals he'd see this as the worse punishment. His return home is a consequence of his poor behavior, not a holiday from his responsibilities."

               “Yes, of course.” Neria bowed her head. "It will be done."

               “Good. Tell the coachman to hurry. I want to be in Carastes by morning.”

***

               Come first light of day Halward found himself sitting in Senior Enchanter Parlathan’s office feeling more than a bit as if he were the misbehaving student awaiting chastisement.

               “You must understand Magister Pavus that it brings me no pleasure to expel Dorian. He is a remarkable lad. Easily as talented a mage as students even three or four years older. Without a doubt he will one day be a prominent magister and you and your dear wife will rightfully be very proud. But I must admit that his conduct at the Circle has left something to be desired. He terrorizes fellow apprentices in the halls, disrespects instructors, and wanders the Circle well past curfew. And now this duel. He badly injured Magister Corix’s son. Surely, you understand my predicament. I simply cannot allow such behavior to go unpunished.”

               Halward mentally uttered every curse he could recall in several languages. He’d hoped that he might be able to talk Parlathan down from an expulsion to at the very least a probationary period, but he knew it was a lost cause with the Corix family involved. He supposed he should thank the Maker that they hadn’t asked for an official investigation by the templars.              

               “There is more I wish to bring to your attention. Your son broke into the warded section of the library and stole a blood magic manual. Oh and Junior Enchanter Valerius informs me that he failed his Common final.”

               “I- What?” Truly, Dorian defied his wildest expectations at every turn.

               “Not to worry. If he applies himself to studying the language as he has to rule breaking, he will be fluent in no time." Parthalan smiled patronizingly. "As for the other matter, I’m sure it’s nothing more than youthful curiosity. Still, I thought you should be aware.”

               He bristled at Parlanthan’s tone. If there was one thing he was still sure of, it was that his son would never resort to a crude tool like blood magic. “You’re telling me the wards in the library are so weak that even a novice apprentice can break in undetected and steal a book of dangerous spells?”

               Parthalan cleared his throat. “Yes, well. As I mentioned, Dorian is an extraordinary mage. Now, if you would be so kind as to follow me, you can fetch Dorian. His things have been packed and are being loaded into your carriage as we speak.”

               When they reached the staircase leading to the basement Halward paused. “Isn’t this the way to solitary?”

               “I’m afraid Dorian was completely unrepentant. I had to-“

               “You put my _nine_ year old son in solitary?” Halward didn’t even wait for Parthalan to respond before rushing downstairs. He’d only been subjected to the punishment once, well into his teens and sometimes he still had nightmares where he reached unsuccessfully for his magic only to find a terrifying, empty void.

               He yanked on the door of the first cell and finding it locked blasted apart the spell holding it closed with far more force than necessary before yanking the door open. His heart thundered in his ears drowning out Parthalan’s protests about Circle property. Dorian sat, pressed into one of the corners of the room with a blanket around his shoulders, wide eyed and pale. Halward rushed toward him and grabbed him by shoulders.

               “Dorian, are you alright?”

               “Yes.” He could hear how hard he strained to keep the quiver out of his voice.

               _Discipline be damned._ All the anger and disappointment he’d felt only a few moments before melted away as he wrapped his arms around Dorian and hugged him as if he might never have the chance to do so again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to anyone patient enough with the very slow updates to this story! I hope the longer chapter somewhat makes up for the wait.


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